


green (the color of your heart)

by LittleMissLuna



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining, why do I ship yoosung with everyone lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 07:27:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19058008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissLuna/pseuds/LittleMissLuna
Summary: And that’s all it takes, a small chuckle and a flash of smile, and all Saeran’s previous unease disappears. He clutches at his chest, feeling the slightly elevated heartbeat behind his ribs. Just how is it that Yoosung can make him feel so much so quickly?And then a voice echoes in his head: Saeran, have you ever liked anyone?Saeran thinks: Oh.He glances at Yoosung, violet eyes glowing with light reflected from the next room, and feels his heart clench in confirmation.Shit.Yoosung/Saeran, takes place after 707's good ending and secret ending.





	green (the color of your heart)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a Mystic Messenger pride zine called "Love Through the Ages." The version below is slightly different from what appeared in the zine because I had to work with a wordcount. For anyone who purchased the zine, I hope you enjoy both versions :)

“Hey Edgelord Choi!” calls Saeyoung from across the table. “When are you gonna stop wearing those emo colored contacts?”

Saeran doesn’t answer, continuing to hide behind his menu. He’s long given up on making a selection. After eating what was given to him for most of his life, he’d found it too strange to have a choice. Despite months spent in his brother’s care, he still can’t bring himself to have an opinion on food, no matter how much his brother promotes Ph.D. Pepper or Honey Buddha chips. He’ll order whatever Saeyoung gets.

“Aw, let the kid wear the contacts,” says Zen, tucking his napkin into the front of his shirt like a cravat. “It’s helpful for me, anyway. I can tell you two apart better.”

“You can’t tell them apart?” asks MC. “It’s pretty easy for me.”

Zen raises an eyebrow. “You’re _engaged_ to Saeyoung! You’ve been living with him for months too! The rest of us barely even see Saeran.”

Saeran gives a quizzical look. Zen looks suddenly panicked.

“N-not that I don’t want to see you more!”

Saeran shrugs. He hadn’t meant to upset the actor, but his stares tends to have that effect on people.

“Hmm, I guess that’s true,” MC says, tightening her grip on Saeyoung’s arm and nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder. Saeyoung responds by planting a kiss on the top of her head.

“Party foul!” cries Zen, frantically waving his hands. “We’re trying to have a nice dinner here! No need to keep reminding the rest of us that we’re single.”

Jaehee hums into her glass of iced coffee. “I understand what you’re feeling, but you must consider the fact that having a girlfriend isn’t an option for you at this time. Your acting career should be put above all else.”

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees defeatedly. 

“I’m for keeping the contacts too,” pipes up Yoosung from next to Saeran. “I think they’re a nice color. They suit you!”

“Glasses would suit him too,” pouts Saeyoung. “I could give you the rectangle pair I almost never wear.”

Yoosung chuckles. “Saeyoung, it’s cute that you want your brother to match you, but you should let him make his own decisions.”

“Gah!” gasps Saeyoung, dropping his fork in mock surprise. “You’ve seen through me!”

“It’s because I know you so well,” the blonde adds, twirling the straw in his cola.

Saeran looks at Yoosung out of the corner of his eye, bright purple eyes practically glowing under the dim lamplight of the restaurant. He doesn’t miss the lazy smile as Yoosung chats with his brother, nor the expression of weariness as soon as his brother looks away. Saeran knows that expression, the tired grin that takes so much effort to produce. He knows it because he would make it himself; in pieces of glass from shattered bottles thrown by his mother, in the dirty window of the room where he spent most of his childhood. 

He shudders; he mustn’t think about it. He wonders instead, as the waitress approaches to take their orders, just what it is that Yoosung is trying to convince himself of.

 

-

-

 

That night he removes one of his contacts and examines himself unclothed in his bathroom mirror. He admires, momentarily, the contrast between the green of his left eye and the yellow of his right. Saeyoung had convinced him to dye his hair back to its natural red almost immediately; Saeran hadn’t argued. He’d never really felt like his body was his own anyway, hadn’t even so much as put up a fight as his fellows from Mint Eye sat him down in a spindly chair and tattooed his shoulder. His life was Saeyoung’s first and then his mother’s, and after that his savior’s.

Now, he supposes, it’s Saeyoung’s again. He can’t do anything about the tattoo right away, but perhaps he should start wearing glasses? He’d needed them growing up but his mother had never granted them, reasoning that poor vision made it less likely for him to escape. Everyone at Mint Eye had been given the same colored contacts to wear as part of their uniform. Saeran didn’t care about the color, so long as it was different.

He looks at the splash of ink across his shoulder, the scars from years of abuse from his mother, dark marks where his skin is permanently bruised from the injections he was given at Mint Eye. How much had he endured to change his body from his twin’s? _ If Zen could see him now, _ Saeran thinks,  _ he’ would say he looks nothing like his brother.  _

Saeran takes out his other contact and imagines it’s Saeyoung’s face in the mirror, tryingeven tries on the glasses Saeyoung left for him on his nightstand  _ just in case.  _ It doesn’t matter. All he can see is an impure man with too many sins to count.

 

-

-

 

“Yoosung,” he says when Saeyoung and MC are out earshot. “You like my brother, right?”

Yoosung almost tosses his Nimtendo controller across the room. “Sae- _ Saeran!” _

“What a reaction. I was only guessing, you know?”

This, of course, is a bare-faced lie. Saeran’s been watching Yoosung for months, every time he comes over to play games or watch a movie. He knows how the younger boy flushes whenever Saeyoung brushes against him, how he stares wistfully at the place where Saeyoung was when he leaves the room. He expects Yoosung to deny it, to flail his arms awkwardly and try to explain how Saeran is wrong. Instead he turns to Saeran, red-faced with tears in the corners of his amethyst eyes.

“Please don’t tell him.”

And oh, Saeran knows that expression too. It’s fear. Fear that everything he’s worked so hard for will crumble into dust. He saw that look on his brother’s face all the time as children when Saeyoung thought he wasn’t looking. He saw it when he was recovering in the hospital and Saeyoung worried he might not return from his drug-induced depression.

If only to erase that painful expression, Saeran waves a hand in dismissal.

“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”

A relieved smile spreads across Yoosung’s face. Without warning he pounces, knocking over a bowl of Honey Buddha chips, and tackles Saeran in a bear hug, pressing him into the back of the couch.

“Saeran, thank you!” he cries, and it occurs to Saeran for the first time that, aside from his brother, Yoosung might be the only RFA member who isn’t afraid of him. He realizes the reason for this is probably because he looks like his brother, and this thought annoys him. He places his palms on Yoosung’s chest and pushes him away.

“No need to thank me. Clean up your mess instead.”

Yoosung cranes his neck, spotting the overturned bowl of chips. “Oops.”

He starts frantically scooping them back into the bowl, looking over his shoulder to check that Saeyoung and MC haven’t returned yet. Saeran, amused by the effort, stretches himself out on the couch like a cat with his head overhanging the side.

“Since when?” he asks. Yoosung stiffens.

“I...I didn’t know until he and MC started going out,” the blonde admits quietly, eyes locked on the floor.  “But I think...probably for a long time.”

_ Oh, _ thinks Saeran.  _ So he didn’t know until it was too late.  _

Before he felt only surprise that anyone could fall in love with his ridiculous brother, but now there’s a twinge of pity mixed in. Saeran waits for Yoosung to continue talking, but he seems intent on plucking every last fragment of chip from the floor. 

“What did you mean last week?” Saeran asks amidst the sounds of chips being ground deeper into the carpet. “When you said my contacts suited me.”

“Oh!” Yoosung says, clearly grateful for the change of subject. “I guess I like the green because it’s my favorite color. It reminds you of springtime, doesn’t it? Green is the color of new life, so it makes me think of new beginnings. You were able to change yourself and start over, so I think green suits you.”

Yoosung raises his head and smiles at Saeran. 

“This is gonna sound a bit dumb, but I think if my heart were a color, it would be green.”

Saeran chuckles into his hand. “You’re right. That did sound dumb.”

“So mean!” says Yoosung, a light dusting of red painting his cheeks. Saeran is somewhat proud of having been the one to put it there. He thinks about it and feels something almost like happiness blooming inside his chest. 

 

-

-

 

The four of them hang out a lot.

It began as more of a result of circumstance. Jumin is almost always too busy, answering any phone call during business hours with a curt, “I’m working. I’ll call you later.” Jaehee, working under Jumin, is similarly unavailable. And Zen, with his sporadic work hours and publicity events, is generally too tired for socialization at the end of a long day.

That leaves Yoosung, Saeran, MC and Saeyoung. Nowadays they don’t even bother inviting anyone else, tired of being constantly turned down by their more professional friends. Saeran is fine with it. They’re a good group; they all mesh well together, despite two of its members being in a relationship. Most of the time it’s not a big deal. When Saeyoung is on his best behavior, he’s inclusive and funny, making sure everyone gets a turn with the Nimtendo and offering plenty of artery-clogging snacks.

But today, he’s being annoying. Today, Saeyoung doesn’t seem to want to be part of a group so much as part of a couple, preferring to lay his head in MC’s lap as she strokes his hair. MC isn’t being helpful by encouraging this behavior, cooing and kissing his forehead.

Saeran keeps a close eye on Yoosung, sitting next to him on the floor in front of the couch. Yoosung isn’t particularly obvious, but he’s not very sneaky either. He keeps stealing glances at his friend out of the corner of his eye.

Saeran likes numbers, likes the consistency of counting. Numbers are firm and constant, predictable. Two always comes after one and is followed by three. They were a piece of solace in his previously hectic life, and they still comfort him now. People are nothing but numbers in their basest forms. And so he counts. Yoosung has sighed four times in the last hour, and glanced discreetly at Saeyoung fourteen times. MC plants a kiss on Saeyoung’s forehead every 3.4 minutes. Yoosung eats a handful of Honey Buddha chips every nine minutes. Saeyoung’s hand progresses .75 inches down MC’s back every six minutes, Yoosung…

No. This isn’t helping. Saeran tries something else.

He grabs a can of Dr. Pepper, cracks it open and pours it directly onto Saeyoung’s face. Saeyoung splutters as he inhales the soda, and MC shrieks as it splashes onto the front of her sweater.

“What the hell?!” yells Saeyoung after a coughing fit. “Why would you do that?!”

“You two are bothering me with your gross couple behavior,” Saeran says matter-of-factly. He avoids his brother’s stern eyes but accidentally makes eye contact with MC. She’s not angry, just confused, like she’s trying to understand what happened in his life that brought him to this moment. Saeran hates being analyzed. He stands up to storm out of the room, and finds Yoosung doing the same.

“I’ll get some towels,” he says, grabbing Saeran’s wrist. “Saeran, come with me.”

He allows himself to be pulled listlessly from the room into the kitchen, where Yoosung starts unraveling a pile of paper towels.

“You did that for me, right?” he says, not looking at Saeran. “Thanks. But you can’t do things like that. Let’s go back and apologize to them.”

_ Fuck apologizing,  _ thinks Saeran, but he finds himself nodding.

When they return, Saeran enters the room first. He immediately stops, stretching himself out in the doorway so Yoosung can’t enter. Saeyoung and MC seem to have decided that this is a good time for an impromptu makeout session, and Saeran knows the exact face Yoosung will make if he finds out. He doesn’t want to see it.

But Yoosung, stronger than he looks, pushes through and approaches the couple, dropping the towels unceremoniously on top of their heads. 

“Seriously, you guys never learn!” 

They laugh, the three of them, and for a moment Saeran is envious of their friendship, so strong and unaffected by trivial things. MC goes to take a shower, shooting an understanding look at Saeran as she goes. 

Yoosung takes her spot on the couch, careful to sop up the last of the Ph.D. Pepper before sitting. Saeran realizes he’s underestimated him. Yoosung is much stronger than he once thought.

When MC gets back, he will deliver a proper apology. Until then, he leans his back on Yoosung’s legs and grabs a controller.

 

-

-

 

The irony isn’t lost on Saeran as he examines himself in the mirror later that evening. His contacts are out, revealing his normal amber eyes, he’s donned the glasses Saeyoung left for him on his nightstand, and he managed to pilfer one of Saeyoung’s hoodies from the laundry. It’s not half bad; in the dark, he could pass as his brother easily. 

In the safety of night he stalks quietly through the hall, creeping past the room where Saeyoung and MC are sleeping soundly. He cracks open the door to the TV room and peers inside; his target is there, fast asleep, lying horizontally on the couch. Yoosung often sleeps over nowadays after long nights of gaming. His breathing is soft and deep, a true show of his ability to fall asleep anywhere. 

Really, this boy is far too trusting, thinks Saeran as he straddles him.

“Mmn?” mumbles the blonde, cracking open his eyes and peering into Saeran’s directly above him. “Sae...young?”

“It’s me, Yoosung,” he says, trying his best to lower his voice to his brother’s timbre. Delicately he smooths the back of his palm over Yoosung’s cheek, brushing aside a few strands of hair.

“Saeyoung,” says Yoosung breathily, grasping the hand and holding it against his face. For a moment he seems to be in a state of dreamlike happiness. Then, all of a sudden, he blinks and looks up, confused. “No...you’re Saeran, aren’t you?”

_ Shit.  _ Saeran leaps up, only to be caught by the wrist. 

“Saeran,” Yoosung says behind him. Saeran doesn’t try to escape.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He doesn’t know why he’s apologizing. Ever since birth, Saeyoung had taken the best of everything. He’d gotten the brains, the physical strength, the opportunities for normalcy. Saeran wants, just once, to take something away from his brother. He was only trying to even the score.

But something about Yoosung’s face, that sharp transition from happiness to surprise when he recognized that he wasn’t Saeyoung... Saeran didn’t want to see that.

“Were you...trying to comfort me?” asks Yoosung softly.

Saeran’s breath hitches in his throat. How could anyone be so forgiving, so unconcerned about the selfishness of others? 

Yoosung stands up snakes his arms around Saeran’s back. “Thanks. But I’d never mistake you for Saeyoung. Even without the contacts, your eyes are too kind.”

“What part of me is kind?” snaps Saeran, tearing away from Yoosung’s arms and turning to face him. “I’ve done terrible things to good people! You’re all such fools, caring for me like I was here all along. Especially my brother! Can’t he see there’s no way to go back to the way we were? I’m too impure to stand next to him! I’ve  _ killed _ -!”

The tears come all at once in a sudden flood, and Saeran can’t speak anymore. Yoosung, seemingly unphased, lifts a paper napkin from the pile on the side table and pats his cheek to dry them.

“When I was little,” says the blond, still blotting Saeran’s face. “I borrowed one of my mom’s pins. It was a gold one shaped like a star, so I really liked it. I knew I wasn’t supposed to snoop around in her jewelry drawer, but I wanted to wear that star so much. One day I secretly took it and wore it to school, but when I came home, it wasn’t on my shirt anymore. I thought my mom would yell at me but when I told her, she just thanked me for telling her and told me to learn from the experience. But I still spent weeks feeling bad about it and I never felt like she gave me the response I actually deserved.”

He drops the napkin and takes Saeran’s hands in his, smiling up at him from his seated position on the couch. 

“I know that’s not really similar to your situation, but what I mean is, I kind of understand. Saeran, the truth is you want to stand next to your brother as his equal, right? You just feel like you can’t until he properly punishes you for what you’ve done.”

Saeran nods, and although he wasn’t aware of it until this moment, he realizes Yoosung is right.

Yoosung sighs, smiling brightly even in the dark, and pats the seat next to him, signalling for Saeran to join him on the couch. Saeran does so, sitting to Yoosung’s right with their hands still clasped tightly. 

“That won’t happen, you know?” says Yoosung. “Nobody blames you for what happened at Mint Eye. You’re not the only one who blames himself for mistreating others in the past. That he abandoned you with your mother is just Saeyoung’s cross to bear. Yours is that he will always, always forgive you.”

That’s true, isn’t it? thinks Saeran. The truth is he understood a long time ago that Saeyoung didn’t leave him carelessly, that he did it to protect him, just as he’s still doing now. He thought he was mad at his brother for taking everything from him, but wasn’t he just upset about how helpless he was back then? Even now, Saeran can’t do anything. He can’t say what he’s really thinking or go outside the house on his own. He can’t be considered a proper brother or friend if he continues on like this.

Saeran squeezes Yoosung’s hand. “I need to become stronger.”

“Mm,” agrees Yoosung. “Let’s get stronger together. And then you can tell him everything you want to say. And I can...”

Saeran feels something tighten in his chest. That’s right, he thinks. Yoosung belongs to Saeyoung. He always has. But for some reason, he doesn’t want to hear the rest of the sentence.

As it turns out, he doesn’t have to. He feels something warm touch his shoulder, accompanied by soft breathing. Yoosung has fallen asleep.

“Honestly,” whispers Saeran in mock-exasperation, but when MC finds them the next morning, they’re both asleep, leaning against each other, hands clasped tightly like they’re never planning to let go.

 

-

-

 

“I’m going to tell him,” says Yoosung, a week before the bachelor party. Saeyoung, unable to choose between his brother and best friend, had assigned the role of best man to both of them, leaving them to sort out the festivities on their own. They’d spent the last few hours going around town looking at vintage video game parlors and were now taking a much deserved break at a fast-food restaurant.

“Why?” asks Saeran, quirking an eyebrow. He doesn’t understand. His brother is getting married, so what’s the point of rocking the boat this late in the game?

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” confirms Yoosung, nibbling on a fry. “But I feel bad keeping this secret from him. Plus, it’ll help me get over him if I’m officially rejected!”

Saeran takes a sip from his cola. “Your timing is shit.”

Yoosung smiles regretfully. “Yeah...I kind of dragged my feet for a while. I definitely can’t do it after he’s married though. I can’t confess to someone’s husband.”

“Husband,” mimics Saeran, feeling the word in his mouth. “I guess that’s what he’ll be.”

“It’s weird to think about our friends getting married,” says Yoosung, “but it’s getting to be that time in our lives.”

He suddenly slumps over onto the table, nearly spilling his drink.

“Hey, watch it!”

“Ugh, sorry,” he moans gloomily. “It’s just...Saeyoung already has a  _ wife  _ and I’ve never even been on a date. I feel like he’s leaving me behind.”

Saeran pats him awkwardly on the head. “Er...there, there.”

“Thanks,” Yoosung says, propping himself up on his elbows. “Saeran, have you ever liked anyone?”

Saeran glowers at him. Yoosung appears to shrink in his seat.

“Right. Being tied up in your mother’s house and then inducted into a cult probably didn’t leave you much time for romance. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” says Saeran, waving a hand in dismissal. “Are you done with your fries? We should probably get back to party hunting.”

Yoosung nods, bringing his tray over to the trash. 

 

-

-

 

The night of the party goes as smoothly as can be expected with the RFA.

Saeran and Yoosung managed to hunt down the perfect location; a retro-looking arcade complete with over fifty games and a fully-stocked bar. They’d called in a favor from Jumin, who rented out the entire place in exchange for the promise of future cat-care. 

As a special present to Saeyoung, Jumin brings along Elizabeth 3rd, permitting him the opportunity to pet her when supervised throughout the night. Zen is less than pleased but elects to withhold his dissatisfaction for the sake of the event, doing so only under the condition that he be allowed to remain at least twenty feet away from Jumin at all times. 

Saeran had used his computer skills to cobble together a simple virtual reality game featuring Saeyoung as the main character. Based on the choices the player made, Saeyoung could ascend to heaven to rule the earth as the one true god, or else die a bloody death via impalement. Saeran’s algorithm shuffles the correct choices each game, making it impossible to know which ending would occur, and he enjoys watching Saeyoung attempt to puzzle it out.

By the end of the night, the games are been pushed to the walls to make room for the dance floor. Saeran had created a mix of pop and electronica based on the music he’d heard Saeyoung blasting in his bedroom, and it proves to be successful in getting a majority of the guests onto the floor. Zen and Saeyoung are by far the most enthusiastic, dancing unabashedly, the former well and the latter hilariously. Jumin, trained in classical partner dances, refuses to lower himself to such standards, but ends up dancing anyway when Saeyoung drags him onto the floor by his waistcoat, leaving Elizabeth 3rd staring confusedly from a barstool. Even Saeran dances a little, encouraged by Yoosung, and he finds it slightly fun, although he’ll never say it aloud.

“How are you liking the party?” asks Zen while Saeran takes a break at the bar. He has to yell in order for Saeran to hear over the thumping base.

“Surprisingly okay,” he says, and he means it. He had figured tonight would be one long period of dread as he waited for Yoosung to do what he said would, but he ended up being amused enough nearly to forget that inevitability.

Zen takes a swig from a bottle of beer. “Man, I sure didn’t think Saeyoung would be the first of us to get married!”

“Yeah…” Saeran mutters, watching the dance floor as Yoosung taps Saeyoung on the shoulder, interrupting his wild flailing, and whispers something into his ear. Speak of the devil.

“I mean, let’s be real, we all thought it’d be me, right? I’ve had the most experience, I’m handsome as hell, I’d make the greatest husband of all time. So why did that dorky redhead-”

Saeran leaps down from his barstool as Yoosung and Saeyoung start moving somewhere together. “Sorry, I need to go to the bathroom.”

He doesn’t wait for Zen’s response. Zen’s probably too drunk to stop talking just because nobody’s around, anyway. Saeran follows the two through a narrow path of gaming consoles into a back room, pausing just before the entrance to linger outside. If he barely looks in he can see them, facing each other beside a pile of broken machine parts.

Saeran realizes a moment too late that he has no idea why he followed them. He knows what’s about to happen, has gone over the conversation hundreds of times in his own head. Yoosung will confess and Saeyoung will reject him. That’s the only way it can happen, right? 

So why, Saeran asks himself, does he feel a sense of unease?

“What’s up, Yoosung?” Saeyoung says. “What’s so important you had to drag me over here to say it?”

Yoosung stares down at his feet, fists clenched at his sides. “I have something I wanted to tell you.”

“Oh? What is it?”

There it is again, thinks Saeran, feeling suddenly nauseous. That odd feeling, like he doesn’t want to hear the next few words Yoosung will say. He tries to leave but finds himself frozen in place, unable to move out of earshot. 

“I…” starts Yoosung.

_ No,  _ Saeran thinks.  _ Don’t do it. Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want-! _

“I...was accepted into veterinary school in America.”

_ What?  _ thinks Saeran.

“What?” says Saeyoung.

Although Yoosung’s back is facing Saeran, Saeran can hear the smile in his voice. “I wanted you to be the first person I told. N-not that I’m trying to make tonight about me or anything! I just wanted-”

“That’s great!” Saeyoung interrupts. “Congratulations! When do you leave?”

“Ehehe...thanks.” Saeran imagines Yoosung’s usual bashful smile. “In a few weeks. I haven’t even started packing yet.”

“We have to tell the others! Want to go do it right now?”

“No!” Hhe flails again. “Tonight is about you. Please don’t tell anyone just yet.”

“Okay,” agrees Saeyoung. “But that’s so cool! I mean I’m bummed you’re leaving but you’ll be back in a few years, right?”

Yoosung doesn’t respond. Saeran watches his brother’s face go from delighted to stunned.

“You...you’re coming back, right?”

“I can’t say for sure,” Yoosung says. “I might get a job offer there once I get my degree. Korea’s my home so I’d like to come back but-”

“You have to!” cries Saeyoung, throwing his arms around Yoosung’s shoulders and shaking him back and forth. “What will I do without my bestie?”

Yoosung pats Saeyoung’s head. “Saeyoung...you have a wife.”

“But you’re important to me, too!”

Really, how cruel was Saeyoung being right now? He’d already asked the man who’s in love with him to plan his bachelor party, and now this? Saeran decides it’s time to take action.

Knocking loudly on the wall to announce his arrival, he storms into the room and pulls his brother off of Yoosung.

“Saeran!” cries Yoosung in shock. “You...you didn’t hear anything, did you?”

“All I heard was my brother whining about something stupid,” he says, deciding to lie. “Anyway, Saeyoung, what are you doing hiding in here? Your guests are getting rowdy.”

“Eep!” squeals Saeyoung in mock surprise. “What’s happening?”

“Zen took too many shots and forgot he hates cats. He keeps trying to dance with Elizabeth, but Jumin isn’t having it.”

Saeyoung springs to action. “Roger! I must defend the honor of my dear Elly!” He turns to Yoosung. “Let’s talk later!”

“Mmm!” Yoosung nods. A moment later, when Saeyoung has effectively evacuated, he turns to Saeran.

“That was a lie just now, right?”

“You were taking a long time,” says Saeran. “I thought maybe you needed saving.”

Yoosung shakes his head. “I didn’t tell him. I couldn’t.”

“Why not? You were so fired up about it a while ago.”

“Yeah,” agrees Yoosung. “But I realized this evening...I only wanted to tell him my feeling out of selfishness. Saeyoung is kind, so there’s no way he wouldn’t be upset to hear something like that. He’d feel bad for me for sure.”

Despite himself, Saeran finds himself grinning. “Yoosung, you’ve grown up a little.”

“Ehehe, really?” Yoosung flushes. “Somehow, hearing that from you makes me really happy.”

And that’s all it takes, a small chuckle and a flash of smile, and all Saeran’s previous unease disappears. He clutches at his chest, feeling the slightly elevated heartbeat behind his ribs. Just how is it that Yoosung can make him feel so much so quickly?

And then a voice echoes in his head:  _ Saeran, have you ever liked anyone?  _

Saeran thinks:  _ Oh.  _

He glances at Yoosung, violet eyes glowing with light reflected from the next room, and feels his heart clench in confirmation.

_ Shit. _

 

-

-

 

“Thanks for coming with me,” says Yoosung as he unlocks the door to Jumin’s penthouse. 

Saeran shrugs. He doesn’t love cats like his brother does but he doesn’t hate them either. When Yoosung had asked him to come along to help take care of Elizabeth the 3rd, Saeran had reasoned he had little else to do anyway.

Saeran hasn’t been in Jumin’s apartment before. He looks around as Yoosung goes off to find the litter box. It’s tasteful, filled with expensive objects without being cluttered. Saeran particularly enjoys the vertical aquarium tank. He assumes Jumin had it put in for the sole entertainment of his cat, but Saeran finds it relaxing at any rate.

As though mocking him for his earlier thoughts, on a bookshelf he finds a picture of young Jumin next to a teenaged V, polaroid camera attached to a lanyard around his neck. They are both smiling in the picture, so unaware of the future where one of them doesn’t exist. 

Saeran finds himself running a hand down the picture, tracing the line of V’s body. The man who attempted to save him, the life that he took. This man would still be here if not for him.

He stands there long enough for Yoosung to appear behind him. “Saeran, you know...it’s not your fault, right? What happened to V.”

“I know,” says Saeran, surprised to find he actually believes it. “I don’t even remember doing it. But that doesn’t change the fact that I pulled the trigger.”

“Even so, you’ve been forgiven. And none of it would have happened if he’d just been honest with you in the first place.”

Saeran feels a sudden flash of anger that has nothing to do with V. “Don’t talk to me about honesty.”

Yoosung looks taken aback, and Saeran is pleased with himself for being able to affect him so. “Saeran, what are you-”

“Were you telling the truth about going to America?”

“Oh,” says Yoosung, sighing deeply in understanding. “You were listening after all.”

“How do you know my brother didn’t tell me?”

“Because I told him not to. And I trust him.

“But not me?” Saeran asks venomously. “Were you going to tell me at all?”

Yoosung leans forward against the back of Jumin’s couch. “Of course I was.”

“ _ Liar, _ ” Saeran spits. “You’re leaving next week.”

“Okay, fine! I wasn’t going to say anything until after I left!” cries Yoosung, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. Saeran glours. “I didn’t want to see it, that face you’re making right now. Like I’ve betrayed you or something.”

“Haven’t you?” asks Saeran. “You were ready to go to a different country without saying goodbye.”

“I have a reason!”

Saeran grits his teeth. “I don’t want to hear it.”

He stalks off towards the door, but he trips over a blur of white fluff. Elizabeth 3rd has chosen the moment to make her appearance, pouncing into Saeran’s lap the moment he tries to stand up. He has half a mind to throw her against the wall, but he decides against his better instincts. In the meantime, Yoosung has crossed the room and is now standing beside him.

“Nice timing, Elizabeth,” he coos, kneeling down to a crouch and patting the cat on her head. She mews affectionately, not budging from her position in Saeran’s lap.

Yoosung removes his hand from Elizabeth’s head and bows slightly. “Saeran, please hear me out.”

“I suppose I have no choice,” Saeran deadpans, absentmindedly stroking the cat.

Yoosung looks at him with determined eyes. “I know I’m a coward for trying to avoid goodbyes. I haven’t told anyone else in the RFA besides Saeyoung either. It’s just...this is something I’m trying to do for myself. I made up my mind a long time ago that if I was accepted, I’d go.”

Yoosung shifts his gaze to the floor.

“The vet schools in America are amazing, so this is a huge opportunity for me. But the truth is, I’m really weak-willed! I knew if I went around telling everyone I’d end up wanting to stay here. I told Saeyoung because we’ve been friends for so long, but I couldn’t bear to tell anyone else. Especially not you.”

_ Why especially not me?  _ he wants to ask, but all he can do is nod.

The blonde looks up again, beaming but with sadness in his eyes. “Jeez, even talking about it now is making me wonder if I should go or not. Maybe I should just stay here after all.”

_ Don’t go,  _ Saeran thinks.  _ Stay here _ .  _ Don’t leave me. Everyone leaves me. Stay with me. Stay with me. I love you. _

“You should go,” he says instead.

“You think so?” Yoosung asks.

Saeran nods. “You can’t miss out on a huge opportunity because you’ll miss your friends. We’ll still be here when you get back, you know?”

Much to Elizabeth’s dismay, Yoosung hugs Saeran tightly, squeezing the white cat between the two of them and extracting a distressed meow. Yoosung doesn’t seem to mind.

“Thanks for supporting me, Saeran.”

They hold each other for a long time, but Saeran finds it isn’t nearly long enough to memorize the feeling of Yoosung’s head nestled in the crook of his neck, and when Elizabeth’s cries become too loud for them to ignore and they break apart, he finds he must restrain himself from slipping his arms around Yoosung’s slim waist and pulling him in again.

 

-

-

 

Saeran thought being in love would be different. 

The way his brother and MC act, he always thought there’d be a moment of realization, some explosion of emotion that would change him down to the core. 

But, as it turns out, loving Yoosung is just...natural. It isn’t any different than how Saeran had felt before. The feelings had just fallen into place until it was right there in front of him, staring him in the face. The only difference was that he could now give it a name.

They spend the last week hanging out, moving Yoosung out of his apartment, taking ample breaks to eat snacks or play video games. Saeyoung and MC had offered to help too, but Yoosung had waved them away, quipping that newlyweds should be spending time together as a couple this early into the marriage. 

This leaves the two of them alone, and Saeran is surprised at how nothing has changed. He’s never felt this way about someone before, but he’s grateful to find he’s not the swooning type. Chatting with Yoosung is still easy, and they’re able to be productive and laugh while doing it.

The reason they’re so comfortable with each other, Saeran recognizes, is that they are friends, and he has no intention of propositioning anything further. The one Yoosung likes, after all, is Saeran’s brother, and he’ll be stressed enough leaving the country without having to deal with the burgeoning feelings of his best friend.

Yoosung moves to America on a Saturday in late August, sent on his way by everyone in the RFA. Saeran expects him to cry, but he holds his head high and smiles, looking back every few seconds as he boards the plane. 

Saeran isn’t sad. He won’t allow himself to be. Yoosung had said he’d keep in touch, and Saeran believes him.

The first few weeks, Yoosung calls Saeran nearly every night, sometimes with things to say, sometimes just to chat. He tells Saeran about his apartment, his nice neighbors, how he can’t get used to the time change. He practices his English, unsteady due to years of slacking. (Saeran, who was forced to learn it for Mint Eye, is fairly fluent and corrects Yoosung’s grammar.) 

Then classes start. The calls come less, but Yoosung seems to make time at least once every few days for a Skype session. He takes Saeran on a tour of his place, eats breakfast with him (for Saeran, it’s dinner) and tries his best to keep up with studying. Saeran puts his computer skills to good use and creates a simple flash card app that Yoosung can use to learn the names of animal bones or complex diseases.

He tells Saeran about his professors and classes, and about his classmates. A few names crop up more and more often, and Saeran is glad Yoosung seems to be making friends easily. How could he not be, Saeran reasons? He’s friendly and bright. Anyone would want to be near him.

Halfway through the semester, Saeran gets a video call.

“You look like shit,” he tells Yoosung, and it’s true. He has dark shadows under his eyes, purple and gray from lack of sleep. His face is flushed red. Saeran can tell he’s been drinking.

“I know,” agrees Yoosung. “I haven’t slept in days because of midterms. But they’re finally over! I’ve been out partying with some friends.”

“Yoosung! Come back!” yells a female voice from the background. 

“Seems like you’re still out,” says Saeran. “Who’s that?”

“One of my friends from class,” says Yoosung. “Actually she…” He averts his gaze. “Never mind.”

Saeran raises an eyebrow. “Tell me.”

Yoosung laughs nervously. “She asked me out yesterday.”

Saeran’s heart drops, but he isn’t surprised. Yoosung has always been the popular type, bright and cheery and easy to make friends with. Saeran manages a response. “And?

“I told her I’d give her an answer later.”

“Do you like her?”

“I mean, yeah, but not like that. Not yet. Besides, I already have someone who’s the most important to me.”

“A girlfriend is different from a best friend, Yoosung. You should consider it.”

The words burn as they emerge from his throat. He hates saying them, just as much as he hated telling Yoosung to move to America. But he can’t let his friend miss out on opportunities just because he wants to keep him for himself.

Yoosung grimaces. “I just feel like it’s a bad thing to accept when I’m not sure.”

“You can’t be hung up on my brother forever,” says Saeran. To his surprise, this seems to incite Yoosung, who crosses his arms and frowns in a huff.

“Saeyong doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“But you said-”

“I was talking about  _ you _ ,” says Yoosung. “ _ You’re  _ my most important friend. Whether I have a girlfriend or not, I still have you, right?”

_ Yes. Always. More than you know,  _ he thinks.

“Go back to the party,” he says instead.

Almost on cue, Yoosung’s friend’s voice splits through the background noise, beckoning him back. “Be right there!” he calls in reply. “I guess I’ll see you later, Saeran.”

Saeran nods, his thumb hovering over the end call button, but something strange comes over him, and before Yoosung closes out of the video app, his name is already on Saeran’s lips.

“Yoosung.”

“Yeah?”

“What would you have done if I said you shouldn’t go?”

Yoosung wrinkles his brow. “Huh?”

“If I had asked you to not go to America,” says Saeran. “Would you have stayed?”

Yoosung considers the question for a moment. “Yes. But I don’t understand-”

“Then I’m glad I didn’t,” says Saeran, and he hangs up the phone.

 

-

-

 

In the morning, Saeran checks his phone. He’s gotten three messages from Yoosung at various times in the early morning. The first two are garbled strings of letters and numbers, but the third, sent at 3:46 am, is readable:  _ srry, was kind of drunk. Hope i didn’t say anything weird!  _

 

-

-

Saeyoung decides to organize an RFA trip to America during Yoosung’s winter break. Jumin, surprisingly, agreesd with the idea and offersed to contribute lodging, putting up everyone in private rooms in a luxury hotel near Yoosung’s campus.

Saeran spends the entire plane ride hugging his knees to his chest, his mind a flurry of emotions. Of course, he’s excited to see Yoosung, his best friend whom he had not seen in several months. On the other, he’s terrified. Yoosung is so kind, so innocent, and he’d more or less confirmed over the phone that he’s willing to derail his life for Saeran. But Saeran didn’t want that devotion. Not if he’d have to give Yoosung up some day. 

Saeran feels dirty. He feels paralyzed. What if he sees Yoosung and can’t hold back?

When they arrive at the hotel, Saeran follows MC and his brother instinctively. He’s so used to walking behind his brother that it comes as a shock when Saeyoung blocks his entrance into their honeymoon suite.

“Couples only!” Saeyoung laughs. 

“Oh,” Saeran mutters. “Where’s my room, then?”

“I didn’t get you one,” said Saeyoung. “I figured you’d stay with Yoosung since you’ve been all buddy-buddy lately. You did tell him you were coming, right?”

Saeran shakes his head. Since the phone call, he’d been avoiding speaking with Yoosung much at all. Saeyoung responds with a  _ that’s your problem  _ shrug and spends the next few minutes drawing a crude map of walking directions on a hotel napkin. 

“Good luck!” says Saeyoung, clapping Saeran on the back and sending him toward the door. 

Saeran’s heart rattles his ribs as he walks the ten minutes to Yoosung’s apartment. His brother’s directions are adequate and he makes it there faster than expected. He raises a hand to knock on the door, gulping back his fear. He had rehearsed what he’d say over and over again on the walk, and the words are on his tongue when he hears the snap of the lock opening.  _ Yoosung. Good to see you. Sorry I didn’t say I was coming. Yoosung. Good to see you. Sorry I- _

“Saeran!” Yoosung cries as he opens the door, and Saeran’s mind goes blank. 

“H-hey,” is all he can manage.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” says Yoosung, throwing his arms around Saeran’s neck. “Everyone else said they were coming.”

“It was kind of planned last minute. Sorry,” replies Saeran, arms dangling limply at his sides. He knows not to hold Yoosung, lest he forgets to ever let go.

“It’s ok! I’m super glad you made it! Sorry my place is a mess. Let me just move some stuff around.”

“It’s fine-” starts Saeran, but Yoosung insists on flittering about the apartment, shoving clothes into drawers and tidying up dishes. Saeran watches, enamored with even the way the blond boy moves, and oh, god, he’s missed Yoosung so much. The apartment smells like him. It makes Saeran dizzy.

Yoosung’s face appears inches in front of his. “Saeran, you ok? Your face is kinda red.” He reaches up to Saeran’s forehead, brushing a few strands of hair out of the way, attempting to feel for a fever. 

“No!” shouts Saeran, surprising even himself when he jerks backwards, leaving Yoosung’s outstretched fingers hovering in mid-air.

The look in Yoosung’s eyes makes him instantly regret it; pain, confusion, but also a steeled knowing. In a flash, the expression is gone, a sad smile in its place.

“Sorry,” he says. “You must be really tired. I shouldn’t be so in your face. Want to sleep on the couch?”

Saeran accepts. 

The next few days are filled with a flurry of activity. Yoosung shows the RFA around his city, introducing them to local landmarks and his favorite sources of food and entertainment. Saeyoung and MC take obligatory touristy photos; Jumin somehow manages to find potential business clients wherever he goes; Zen appears to have fans even in America, and Jaehee makes it her mission to follow him around, fending them off.

Saeran tries to act normal, but Yoosung’s dejected behavior tells him it’s not working. Despite how his friend tries to hide it, Saeran sees it in every passing glance, in every exchange of half-hearted conversation. He knows Yoosung wanted it to be just like old times but Saeran doesn’t think he can muster it. He’s too nervous around Yoosung; too aware of lines that must not be crossed. He avoids eye contact and all manner of physical contact. He prays nobody else can see what’s going on.

-

-

“We can all see what’s going on,” says Zen as he shoves Saeran and Yoosung into Yoosung’s apartment. “I don’t know what’s up with you two, but stay in there until you work out your shit.”

“I’ve made reservations at a very nice bistro at seven,” says Jumin from behind Zen. “Please sort out your personal issues by then.”

The door clicks shut. Saeran swings around, hoping Yoosung might be amenable to just taking a nap instead of talking, but it’s clear that the purple-eyed boy is looking for a conversation.

“They’re right. You’ve been acting really weird since you got here. Since before that, even. Are you going to tell me what’s up?”

Saeran remains silent.

“Saeran, be honest,” says Yoosung, staring at him determinedly. “This is about the video call, isn’t it?”

Saeran looks away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do! You’re avoiding me!”

“I’m not-”

“You are!” Yoosung cries. “Look, if I said something weird, tell me what happened. I want to fix things! Right now, all I remember is…you, telling me you were glad I went to America.”

The sadness in Yoosung’s voice is enough to cause Saeran to look up again. There are tears in the corners of his amethyst eyes. It takes all of Saeran’s self restraint to stop him from holding his friend to his chest.

“That’s...out of context,.” Saeran mutters.

Yoosung sniffs. “Then explain it to me! I hate this...this…” He flails his hand, gesturing broadly at everything. “Whatever this is between us! I just want it to be like it-”

“Don’t you get it?” Saeran cuts across him. “It can’t go back. Everything’s different now. You’re gone and I’m alone and…” He suddenly runs out of steam and sits down on Yoosung’s couch, burying his face in his hands. “This was so much easier when I wasn’t talking to you in person.”

Yoosung blots at his eyes with a shooting-star patterned handkerchief. “W-what was easier?”

“I don’t know, Yoosung. Nothing. Everything. Being away from you was awful but I don’t even know how to  _ be  _ around you anymore.” Saeran sighs, staring into his own lap. “I thought I could live my entire life being number two to my brother. I was just the gloomy shadow following him around. We only became friends because you were in love with him. But then, that time you were drunk, you told me I was the most important person to you and I was  _ terrified.  _ Nobody’s ever depended on me for anything before. What if I ruined your trust in me? What if I did something unrecoverable and you came to hate me?”

“Saeran…” says Yoosung softly, taking a seat next to him on the couch. Saeran looks up at him, face streaked with tears he didn’t feel emerging.

“You’re the first person...the first  _ anything  _ I’ve wanted for myself. My head is so full of you there isn’t room for anything else. Even if I have to keep you at arm’s length, I can’t lose you. I can’t.”

Through his own tears, Saeran saw that Yoosung’s were dried. Instead of crying, the blond was looking at him intensely, head cocked to one side in thought. Slowly, he approached Saeran on the couch until their bodies were only a few inches apart.

“Saeran…” he said. “Are you...in love with me?”

And though Saeran fights desperately to keep the words in his throat, his pounding heart forces them out. “Oh, god, Yoosung. I love you so much I can’t breathe.”

In a swift movement, Yoosung closes the gap between them, burying his face in Saeran’s chest, wrapping his arms around the small of his back. “I’m so glad! I thought I said something awful to you when I was drunk and you hated me.”

“Of course I don’t hate you,” mumbles Saeran into Yoosung’s hair, returning the hug and trying not to let his heart beat out of his chest. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting. I promise I won’t try anything.”

Yoosung abruptly lets go, staring quizzically at Saeran. “Don’t you get it?”

“Get what?”

Yoosung sighs. “Saeran, you’re staying at my place instead of a hotel. I told you that you’re my most important person. And I turned down a  _ really  _ cute girl for you.”

Saeran blinks, the words not processing in his brain.

Yoosung brushes a strand of hair out of Saeran’s eyes. “You’re really an idiot sometimes,” Yoosung mutters, and kisses him.

And Saeran thinks:  _ oh. _

_ - _

_ - _

When they walk to breakfast the next morning, Saeran has to try his hardest not to hold Yoosung’s hand. They promised to tell the RFA someday, but they wanted to give it a little time. Saeran would be leaving with the rest of them today, after all, and who knows when he’d see Yoosung again?

Saeran wishes they’d gotten up earlier so he’d have had time to enjoy the feeling of Yoosung snuggled against him, but as it were, they’d forgotten to set an alarm and were forced to scramble out of bed ten minutes before the appointed meeting time. Saeran hadn’t even had time to put in his green contacts, opting to throw on his brother’s glasses

They meet the RFA at the hotel restaurant on the first floor, currently set up for breakfast with a buffet piled high with bacon, eggs and other American foods. MC and Seven pile their plates high with greasy sausages and potatoes. Jaehee and Jumin opt for lighter, healthier fair, and Zen orders bottomless mimosas instead of food. Saeran, upset at the prospect of leaving his beloved, eats nothing.

“Come on, Saeran, you can’t go without breakfast!” asserts Yoosung, dragging him up to the buffet. “It’s the most important meal of the day.”

Saeran looks into a tray filled with fluffy omelettes. He feels sick looking at them. Instead, he concentrates on Yoosung’s hand around his wrist, fearing for the moment he will have to relinquish it. 

While he’s considering eating a wedge of cantaloupe to appease Yoosung, Zen appears behind him.

“Hey, Saeyoung, I was looking at the plane tickets you printed out, and I think you forgot one,” says Zen.

Saeran turns around. “I’m not Saeyoung.”

“Oh shit, my bad!” says Zen. Yoosung giggles. “Hey! Don’t act like it’s my fault. Without the contacts they look exactly the same. I don’t know how you can tell them apart, Yoosung.”

“That’s easy,” says Yoosung, beaming. “Saeran is way cuter.”

As Zen’s face goes from shocked to amused, Saeran locks eyes with Yoosung, who looks horrified as he realizes what he’s just done. Zen looks frantically around before yelling, “Saeyoung! MC! You guys were right!”

Zen’s shouting is followed by the sound of a distant high five. MC and Saeyoung emerge from behind the pancake station a few moments later, looking like proud parents.

“I knew it!” yells Saeyoung, clapping his brother and Yoosung on the backs. “Jumin! Jaehee! Get over here! We did it!”

The businessman and his assistant join them by the buffet, Jumin looking generally stoic, Jaehee slightly surprised.

“Oh my,” she said, smiling nonetheless. “I suppose congratulations are in order. Should I send for some champaign?”

“Just have some of my mimosas!” Zen offers.

“That’s very kind of you,” says Jaehee. “But that’s not how bottomless drinks work…”

“Wait, wait, wait!” cries Yoosung, looking generally frazzled at all the attention. “You  _ knew  _ we liked each other?”

“It was rather obvious something was going on,” said Jumin plainly. “Although MC and Saeyoung were the ones trying to force you together.”

“It would have happened earlier if my dumb brother hadn’t been so shy,” said Saeyoung, shaking Saeran by the shoulder affectionately. “But it’s ok now! They have all the time in the world to be all lovey-dovey.”

“I believe they have exactly 45 minutes,” says Jaehee. “That’s when we need to leave for the airport.”

Saeyoung laughs hysterically, as though he was waiting for someone to say that. “Fear not! God Seven predicted this outcome and only purchased five return tickets to Korea!”

“Saeyoung,” pipes up Saeran. “I appreciate what you’re doing but you can’t just force me onto Yoosung. I’m sure he wouldn’t-”

But as Saeran turns to face Yoosung, he finds the blond boy flushing madly.

“Wait, Yoosung, don’t tell me-”

Yoosung plunges his hand into his pocket, pulling out a small brass key. “Ehehe...I snuck out last night and had it made. I was going to ask you privately but I guess since the cat’s out of the bag…” He drops to one knee dramatically. “Saeran Choi, will you live with me?”

Saeran looks down at his adorable new boyfriend, then to his brother and MC, each giving double thumbs up. He scans the rest of his friends - Jaehee and Jumin smiling calmly, Zen looking nervous and nodding for Saeran to approve - and sighs.

“Honestly, you’re all ridiculous,” he says, taking the key from Yoosung’s outstretched palm. “But I suppose if I don’t have a ticket home…”

“Boo!” Saeyoung interrupts, blowing a raspberry and brandishing a thumbs down. “Say it more romantically!”

Saeran rolls his eyes, but smiles nonetheless. “Fine,” he mutters, bending down to Yoosung’s kneeling height and planting a kiss on his forehead. “Yoosung Kim, I will live with you.”

The RFA erupt into cheers - well, cheers from MC and Saeyoung, polite applause from Jaehee and Jumin. A few other buffet patrons join in, unsure of the occasion for the celebration. Zen sticks out his tongue in disgust. 

“Great,” he says. “Another gross couple in the RFA.”

-

-

 

Living with Yoosung is peaceful. They don’t see each other particularly often - even in the same living space, Yoosung has long classes and tons of lab work and studying to do - but the moments they do share are affectionate and wonderful. Saeran enjoys the rare lazy mornings where they can drift in and out of sleep, chatting with each other about their weeks. He enjoys playing video games during Yoosung’s breaks from classes, learning to cook using the limited ingredients in the fridge, and even occasionally going out with Yoosung’s friends, who take to him quickly and naturally. America is much kinder to them than Korea would have been.

Saeran feels bad about mooching, so, with the help of Jumin’s connections, he takes a job in a jewelry store as an apprentice metalworker. He finds it a refreshing break from staring at a screen but enjoys the attention to detail and craftsmanship it requires. He often brings his work home with him, fiddling with wires and gems at the desk Yoosung installed for him in their shared bedroom.

One evening, Yoosung finds him bent over the desk, putting the finishing touches on a green carved stone heart.

“Whatcha up to?” Yoosung asks, planting a kiss on Saeran’s head.

“You’re home early,” says Saeran, smoothing out one final notch before offering the green heart. “I made this for you. I’m going to turn it into a necklace.”

Yoosung takes the heart and holds it up to the light. “It’s beautiful! Thank you, Saeran.”

“I remembered what you said about if your heart had a color,” Saeran says, pleased that Yoosung appreciates his gift. “I was going to make a matching one for myself. What color do you think mine should be?”

“Hmm,” considers Yoosung, thinking for a moment before answering, “white.”

“Why’s that?” asks Saeran.

“Because it’s the color of a blank page,” answers Yoosung. “You were able to rewrite your own story, weren’t you? I think white suits you perfectly.”

Saeran hums in agreement, opening the desk drawer and pulling out a white heart carved from moonstone.

“You guessed what I’d say?” asks Yoosung.

“No. I didn’t know what you’d say so I made one in every color.” Saeran opens the drawer, showing Yoosung several more carved hearts.

“These are really nice! We should give them to the other RFA members!”

Saeran considers this, then nods. “Which colors should we give to each person?”

“I think your brother and MC should get the red and pink ones,” says Yoosung. “Since they’re basically the same person anyway.”

Saeran laughs. “Agreed.”

“Jaehee should get the gold one because she’s probably the best human in terms of overall quality.”

“She really is. I don’t know how she tolerates Jumin every day.”

“Jumin should get purple, because it’s the color of royalty.”

“And Zen can have the silver charm because of his hair.”

“Perfect!” exclaims Yoosung. “I’m sure they’ll all love them. Let me help you put them on strings.”

A few hours of work later, and the package is ready to mail out. Underneath a pile of individually wrapped necklaces is a photograph of a smiling Saeran and Yoosung, arms wrapped around each other. Unbeknownst to Yoosung, on the back of the photo there was a very short handwritten note:

 

_ Dear RFA, thank you for everything. Saeran. _


End file.
